Page 129 of Kiss Me Tonight

“Dominic, let me go!”

“Not a chance, baby. I saved you a front-row seat.”

Chairs fly.

Clarke, red-faced and shaky on his feet, throws half-hearted swings at the Londoners out to defend one of their own.

There’s something almost poetic in the deliverance of sweet justice.

Hey, I might be a man in love but I’m still the same old Dominic DaSilva.

Sirens screech outside and then two officers jam through the front door. Over the heads of everyone brawling, including Shawn, I watch as the dark-haired officer re-holsters his gun and sighs. “Jesus Christ,” he calls out, “who the hell started this?”

All fingers point to Rick, who, in turn, jabs a finger in Levi’s direction.

“Goddammit,” the other officer grunts, “my wife’s gonna kill me if I show up late and miss Savannah Rose’s one-on-one dates this week.”

39

Aspen

The Mount Desert Island County Jail smells like roses and killed dreams.

The roses make sense: I spotted a vase when Officer Temler brought me in, my wrists cuffed.

The killed dreams make sense too. My holding cell is only ten feet away from the front desk, which means I hear every blistering second of Rick calling his lawyer to make bond. On his way out, he stops in front of my cell. His precious suit is drenched in beer, and there’s a cut on his temple from a Bud Light shard. I should regret hitting him over the head with a bottle. I should regret it—but I can’t. Because this man, who I once loved with everything that I was, turned me into a shadow of myself. He tore me down and used my own son to keep me in place, and a single bottle—which barely glanced his head, mind you—doesn’t come anywhere close to the number of betrayals he dropped at my feet in the last fifteen years.

“Have you come to gloat that you’re walking free?” I ask, never letting my gaze waver from his familiar face. I let this man touch me. I let this maninsideme. And yet he stands there like a stranger, the bars of my cell the physical divide that’s metaphorically separated us for years. When he remains quiet, I huff out a frustrated laugh. “I’m done, Rick. Done with you and your selfishness.”

“My lawyer asked if I wanted to pay your bond,” he finally mutters, looking uncomfortable as he tugs on his suit cuffs, “I said I would.”

I meet his gaze. “No.”

“You’d seriously rather sit in that cell? Are you kidding me, Levi?”

I pat the cot I’ve been camped out on since being led in here. “Let me phrase this differently for you: I don’t want to see you again. Not in London, not anywhere. If you have an issue, take it up with my lawyer. As for Topher, I suggest learning how to repair your relationship with your son. I’m not doing it for you anymore. You want him to think you’re honorable? You want him toloveyou?” I drop my elbows to my thighs. “Then show him you care. Or else one day you’ll wake up and realize that you’re alone and you’ll have no one to blame for that but yourself.”

His expression stiffens. But Rick doesn’t do vulnerability, and if my warning has any impact on him, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he only issues me his usual cold-hearted farewell: “See you when I see you, Levi.”

He strides off down the hallway, and I can’t help but snort “good riddance” under my breath.

I hope he’s sorry. I hope he gets on his private jet back to Pittsburgh and stays there forever. I’ve spent years sheltering Topher from the truth but, considering I’m drenched with booze and sitting in a jail cell, I think it’s safe to say I’ve reached the end of my rope.

If Topher decides to speak with his dad after this, I won’t stop him.

But I’m done. Finished.Finite.

Oh, my God, I’m in jail.

Unlike Rick, I wasn’t given the opportunity to make my one call, which seems a little unconstitutional if you ask me. I mean, I’ve seen enoughNCISepisodes on TV to know that everyone deserves one call.

Right?

As the adrenaline coursing through my system eases, I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be stuck behind bars. Eternity is a hell of a long time to pay penance for smashing a bottle of cheap beer over your ex-husband’s head.

I wrack my brain, trying to remember how long people serve for battery charges.NCISis proving useless. All I know are formations for football drills, special teams tips, and random facts about US History that could bore an officer to death.Thank you, online college degree.

It’s not enough. I left Topher with my mom and the knitting club, so at least I know my baby boy will be cared for. But what about Harry—the police are still searching for his mom—and Timmy and Bobby? Hope dwindles like a melted candlewick. I still haven’t taken Meredith up on her offer to grab some wine.

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